It’s called Five Minute Friday. Each week, we write freely on a one-word prompt. Then we link up at the amazing Kate Motaung’s site. It’s a flash mob of writers- having fun and sharing their take on one word. This week’s prompt is FIND.
“Hey, Mom! Can we stop and get that cat?”
I slowed the van, alarmed by their tone and asked, “Why?”
“We just saw a sign back there about a lost black cat. It’s probably looking for its home. Please?! ”
Ugh. Seriously? Continue reading
It’s called Five Minute Friday. Each week, we write freely on a one-word prompt. Then we link up at the amazing Kate Motaung’s site. It’s a flash mob of writers- having fun and sharing their take on one word. This week’s prompt is TRY.
It’s called Five Minute Friday. Each week, we write freely on a one-word prompt. Then we link up at the amazing Kate Motaung’s site. It’s a flash mob of writers- having fun and sharing their take on one word. This week’s prompt is TEN. 
A few years ago, a Quik Trip was built one block away from our house. With each visit, I’m more impressed by the way they do things. Many times, I’ve thought about what the church could learn from them … Continue reading
It’s called Five Minute Friday. Each week, we write freely on a one-word prompt. Then we link up at the amazing Kate Motaung’s site. It’s a flash mob of writers- having fun and sharing their take on one word. This week’s prompt is FREE.
“Is this free?”
Her big brown eyes grew wide as she pushed the CD in my face. Sweat, sugar, and water balloons had plastered her blond bangs to her forehead. Her voice was a bit too loud after our “God’s Plan 4U” concert.
I switched my focus from her face to the pink jewel case.
FREE? My mind flashed to the hours spent hanging decorations, gathering supplies, organizing volunteers, and burning those CDs. That little girl didn’t know she was holding the blood, sweat, and tears of many hard-working VBS volunteers. I would never let on how tired and sore I was. She would never understand all that was spent for that digital give-away. Continue reading
It’s called Five Minute Friday. Each week, we write freely on a one-word prompt. Then we link up at the amazing Kate Motaung’s site. It’s a flash mob of writers- having fun and sharing their take on one word. This week’s prompt is DREAM.
I had a dream I was flying.
In the air, I saw old friends and dodged hissing snakes. When I tried to scream, my teeth fell out, but I couldn’t catch them with my feathered hands. Then, I turned a corner and plummeted to the ground, waking up just before I met my death on the rocks below.
Dreams don’t obey laws of physics, or reason. They reach backward and forward until we lose sense of when we are and mock our bondage to time. Continue reading
It’s called Five Minute Friday. Each week, we write freely on a one-word prompt. Then we link up at the amazing Kate Motaung’s site. It’s a flash mob of writers- having fun and sharing their take on one word. This week’s prompt is FEAR.
Come, Lord Jesus.
I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.
Bad things happen, and we want it all to end. No more violence. No more anger. No more grief.
Come, Lord Jesus.
We say it when we are afraid of things getting worse. Let’s call it a day. Let’s call it a life. Let’s cut our losses and go home. Continue reading
It’s called Five Minute Friday. Each week, we write freely on a one-word prompt. Then we link up at the amazing Kate Motaung’s site. It’s a flash mob of writers- having fun and sharing their take on one word. This week’s prompt is WORLD.
A playground crawling with kids, blue swings, and the mommy bench.
A dark alley covered with garbage, homeless men, and the drug dealer.
This is my Father’s World.
Cowboy birthday parties with cupcakes, party favors, and innocence galore.
Teenage pool parties with suspicious minds, unjust rage, and ten steps back.
This is my Father’s World. Continue reading
It’s called Five Minute Friday. Each week, we write freely on a one-word prompt. Then we link up at the amazing Kate Motaung’s site. It’s a flash mob of writers- having fun and sharing their take on one word. This week’s prompt is MEET.
Bacon, burgers, Thanksgiving turkey, filet mignon.
I love it all. I don’t know how vegetarians do it with their soy burgers and tofu…
It’s at the center of the table and the highlight of the meal. It’s at the heart of the grill and the way into the hearts of manly men. Continue reading
It’s called Five Minute Friday. Each week, we write freely on a one-word prompt. Then we link up at the amazing Kate Motaung’s site. It’s a flash mob of writers- having fun and sharing their take on one word. This week’s prompt was DOOR.
This is not what was supposed to happen…not what he planned.
He stumbled down the road, stinking from pride and poor decisions.
He had tried to make a name for himself, but ruined his reputation and his future instead. Continue reading
There’s always something.
It never ends.
It’s one thing after another.
I hear it all day long. Life’s a bxxch. The struggle is real. Come, Lord Jesus.
My husband came home and asked, “How was your day?”
My mind flashed to the tantrums, spilled cereal, dog vomit, and leaking dishwasher. But I heard my mouth say, “Good. It was a good day.” Continue reading
When I was little, I wished I would break a bone. For real. I wished I had a fantastic story to tell about how I was rushed to the emergency room, about how the doctors weren’t sure they could fix me, and about how I was brave through it all. I actually prayed for it for a while, then I took matters into my own hands. Continue reading
We sit in waiting rooms and wait in line. We wait for our plane, our elevator, and our turn. And it all seems so passive, so idle, so … boring. Continue reading
My oldest daughter is a rock climber. What a sport. It takes incredible strength, obviously, but it also takes much patience and strategy. Much like chess, each move must be carefully anticipated and calculated. It’s also a sport that has its own vocabulary. I learned that they don’t say, “I made it to the top.” Instead, they say, “I sent the route.”
His enemies tried to trap Him.
His hometown people turned their backs.
His family kept their distance, Continue reading
Stooping For Manna 
